Hunger
by Doors
Summary: Greyback changed when Scabior was in Azkaban. He looks at him in a different way now.


**WARNING:** Suggestions of rape, paedophilia and cannibalism, non-explicit sexual themes

* * *

The way Greyback looked at him sometimes made his skin crawl. It wasn't the sort of thing he could bring up with him, though. He'd never looked at him like that before. But Scabior had been to Azkaban and back, and that had changed him. He'd seen things, things he thought he'd forgotten, things he'd tried to forget, and that made him harder. He just didn't care any more, not about anyone's crimes or lust or sin.

But Greyback had changed, too, and it wasn't because of Azkaban. He hadn't been there, but he'd been living God knows where for years, underground, skulking around, building an army. And Scabior should have seen it coming, really; the man had been in a downward spiral for years even before he'd had to go away. Sometimes he seemed all right – hell, sometimes he even seemed _normal_. But he was living in a world that hated him, a world he couldn't change, and he was going slowly insane. Scabior knew he couldn't stop him, but he tried. And sometimes he seemed to listen to him; sometimes he seemed to care.

Then Scabior had been taken away, and Scabior was the only wizard who'd ever cared about _him_, and Scabior didn't know what was going on outside the walls of Azkaban but when he got out it was as though Greyback had stopped caring completely. He had more werewolves now. He said he was their _king_. That was the word he'd used, and Scabior had never heard him talk about himself that way before.

He wasn't sure if he was more perceptive now, older and wiser and a bit more messed up, but he noticed things. He wasn't sure if Greyback had ever looked at him in that way before or not. He knew he had looked as though he'd _wanted_ him before, but this was different. Before, Greyback had demanded things of him, searched him out as though he satisfied some sort of hunger inside him. Scabior hadn't minded doing that. Greyback was rough and sometimes – most of the time – he hurt him, but Scabior had liked it all the same. And he knew that Greyback was just glad he didn't tell him to sod off and stick his wand in his eye.

But it was different now. Greyback didn't care that Scabior didn't push him away, that Scabior wanted Greyback as much as he wanted him. He didn't care that Scabior had sought him out – and no wizard ever did that. He just didn't care. He didn't want to be wanted. It seemed as though he'd spent so long _taking_ from anyone he could find that it hardly mattered who wanted to _give_ it to him any more.

He looked at Scabior in a different way. It was the same why he looked at everyone now. Especially the children.

Scabior couldn't help it. He wanted to like Greyback. He didn't care what he did, really. Not after the years he'd spent being tormented for his own misdoings. But Greyback looked at children in a way that said they satisfied not only his carnal desires, but also his literal, physical hunger. Scabior had seen him look at kids that way before, towards the end. But now he was looking at Scabior in that way, lips pulled back from his rotten teeth and his tongue dripping saliva and blood, and it made his stomach drop.

He wanted things to go back to the way they were. To Greyback grabbing him, scraping almost-claws along his back, biting him and bruising him and telling him he hated him. That was all right. Scabior could handle that. He knew he didn't hate him, not really. But what he couldn't handle was the way Greyback looked at him now, with that horrible _want_ in his eyes, and the way trailed his nails along Scabior's cheek and buried his nose in his hair. Anyone else, who didn't know Greyback well (and somehow, no-one ever wanted to get to know Greyback well) would have thought he was being kinder and more gentle with him now. That he _missed_ him. And Scabior was sure he had missed him, in some sort of way, but Greyback didn't seem to remember how things had been before. Greyback was treating him like a child, and Scabior knew very well what Greyback did to children.

It didn't hurt as much when Greyback just placed a rough-skinned hand on the side of his face, or when he pulled him close and sniffed his hair. But it made Scabior's skin crawl, because Greyback was smirking and his voice rasped and his stinking breath was hot and horrible as his lips brushed Scabior's ear.

"You smell… delicious."

* * *

_Written for the OTP Boot Camp with the prompt 'want' and the One Word Prompt Competition with the prompt 'edible'._


End file.
